Eleven Guests A'knocking
by Uncle Charlie
Summary: Napoleon and Illya are home for the holidays and, for once, in good shape. What's an agent to do? "Answer the door, Illya." Written for the 12 Fics of Christmas


**duckys_lady**

How about a new Man from UNCLE with our favorite duo home and at least relatively healthy for Christmas? No preference to slash/gen - let your muse go where it will. ;-)

Napoleon kicked the door shut and staggered to the table with his armful. "And I will ask again, what possessed you to agree to take all the leftovers from the Christmas party?"

"They were going to throw it away." Illya shrugged off his coat and tossed it onto a chair. He began to check the contents of each of the various tin-foiled trays. "I figured if worse came to worse, we could take them to a homeless shelter. This much food shouldn't go to waste."

"Well, that I agree with you about. It's just so much food." Napoleon's dining room table, the accompany buffet and even the counters in the kitchen were stacked with various tasty offerings. "The catering staff really went above and beyond this year."

Illya snagged a meatball and popped it into his mouth. "There are even good cold."

"Well, at least we won't have to worry about going out to eat… quite possibly for the next seven years."

"But, Napoleon. It's the day before Christmas, we are home. We are healthy. This is a miracle."

"Yes, well, let's not took that gift horse in the mouth any time soon, shall we? There's still forty eight hours to go." Napoleon picked up Illya's jacket and hung it in the closet next to his. It was a strangely satisfying action. He still was adjusting to being together, although no one else seemed to be having any issue with it.

"I thought I was supposed to be the pragmatist in this relationship." Illya turned him and caught him in a kiss. For a long moment, it was the only thing Napoleon registered, just the feeling of Illya being so close and the beating of his heart.

Except it wasn't his heart. It was the front door. "Did you invite anyone over?"

"Me? Our first chance alone in how long? Not on your life." Illya drew his weapon and cautiously approached the door. "Yes?"

"Illya, It's April. Open up."

He verified that it was indeed her or at least the parts he could see looked right and opened the door. "April?"

"Me, too, mate. Happy Christmas." Mark was standing there holding a partially-decorated Christmas tree.

"I'm sure there's a story behind that." Napoleon joined them.

"There was. We were all set for a quiet little Christmas and Bahrain kicked up. We're heading out tomorrow morning. I didn't want this guy to die of loneliness and I'd head on the grape vine that you two were here. So, Merry Christmas! Oh, and to invite you out to eat."

"I have a better idea. Did either of you get to the party at HQ?"

"Nope, I was on a stake out." Mark carried the tree in and set it down in the corner of a room. "It looks perfect there."

"I was getting stitched up. Anyone who thinks heels and pursuit go hand-in-hand are crazy. The THRUSH got away and I got seven stitches." April limped slightly over to the couch and Napoleon took her jacket.

"Illya brought home all the food. We have a ton of it. Stay and help us eat it?"

Mark and April exchanged looks and both nodded. "Sure, why not? What can we do?"

"Mark, come and help me in the kitchen. April, find some appropriate music and Illya, I believe some plates are in order."

Illya saluted smartly. "You got it." Then there was a knock to the door. "I wonder who that could be."

It was Mr. Waverly and Lisa Rogers, both looking cold and a bit annoyed. "Sir?" Illya studied him closely.

"The vehicle that we were riding it apparently ran out of fuel. I was hoping to call headquarters from here."

"You didn't have a communicator?"

"Despite what you believe, Mr. Solo, I am not permanently attached to one."

"I changed purses and forgot," Lisa admitted, looking both angry and embarrassed. "When I think of all the things that could have gone wrong."

"They didn't. The truce with THRUSH is holding."

"Sir, please come in and warm up. April and Mark are here, too." Napoleon gestured them inward. "I will make that call for you, sir."

"There's no hurry, Mr. Solo. It looks as if you are getting ready for a party."

"I didn't want them to throw out all the food," Illya said as he took Mr. Waverly's top coat and scarf. After a moment, Lisa handed him her jacket as well.

"I feel like this is all my fault. I should have checked."

"No, the motor pool should have. It was not your fault, Lisa." April waved her over to the fire. "They are getting lax these days."

Mark was loading some of the trays into the oven to warm as Napoleon, finished with the phone call, came back.

"I think those you can just set out." He pointed to a stack of trays. "We just need dish up spoons and plates."

"Right, that was me. Any ones in particular?"

"There are some Christmas ones in the right bottom cupboard."

Illya went to the buffet and pulled out some dishes, placing them on the table. He pulled open some drawers until he found the stash of paper napkins he knew Napoleon had and set those out as well. He was just about to turn and head into the kitchen when there was a knock on the door.

"What is going on tonight?" he muttered as he answer the door. Mandy Stevenson and George Donnell were standing there, both looking very much ill at ease. ""George, Miss Stevenson."

"Hi, Illya, hey we got a call that Mr. Waverly was here and since we were in the area, HQ asked if we'd give him a ride home."

"What?" Napoleon shook his head in disbelief. "It sounds like things are really going to hell in a hand basket at HQ."

"It's not their fault. There's only a skeleton crew there at the moment."

There was movement in the hall and Illya looked past Mandy to Aunt Amy and her companion these days, a retired THRUSH by the name of Earl Walker were standing there.

"Aunt Amy! Earl!"

"Are we intruding?"

"Not at all." Illya looked back at the group assembled in the living room. "I have a feeling the party is just getting started. Why don't you all come in?"

"Well, that was interesting." Illya carried the last stack of dishes into the kitchen and set them down. "This is it."

"Everyone gone?"

Illya nodded. "And nearly all the food is gone."

"Thank god we had it. I guess we were the needy. What was the final count?"

"Well, including the doorman, the neighbor on either side of us, and excluding us, eleven." Illya glanced at his watch. "And it's only two a.m."

"Wow… what a night." Napoleon turned the light off and put his arm around Illya's waist. "If anyone deserves some sack time, it's us."

"To sleep?"

"Perchance to dream… eventually." Napoleon looked at the Christmas tree and smiled. "There's something about being home for the holidays."


End file.
